


Contradictions

by Meriah



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:57:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriah/pseuds/Meriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a cocktail of wisdom of naivety, longing and loathing, fear and courage. He is full of contradictions and he sends me to the brink. Within seconds I am captivated by his presence; the next I ooze with rage, pulsating with the urge to main and harm. Kill. Kill him, kill anything, it is all the same to me. Then I am drawn back to the original emotion, and I imagine my lips upon his collarbone, polished nails sinking into his flesh, legs coiled around his body. My mind sparks fantasizes of moaning, satin sheets, red hot lies and deception and all the brutal things that come with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contradictions

What’s the difference between love and hate? They are branded as opposites, the contrast between night and day, time and space, war and peace. 

It is in the hour before dawn with a cigarette in my mouth and the pavement underneath me that I walk through this city, lost in thought. I ponder if there is indeed a difference between love and hate – those two entities from which all the stories of humanity are written. Are they not intertwined in a continuum? Could one exist without the other?

I laugh. Oh, of course not.

I hate him. With all of the fire that burns within me, I hate him. He is the property of the Rocket Gang that fled, the one who became liberated, the one who now is the sovereign to his own destiny. I am unlike him – I gave myself away to the criminal organization, and it is in times like this that I question if membership was ever my intention. If I quit surely my life would end under the fangs of houndooms or a gun shot through my skull.

Or do I love him?

Somewhere beneath that cool exterior he presents, I know he understands me. I have witnessed how his gaze locks in on mine as we stand separated only by a gust of wind. I can never comprehend myself, yet it seems as if he can read through me. He feeds upon my anger, does not tremble as I strive to damn and destroy him.

The wind is always there in our exchanges. It trails between us, then embraces him as if it as if in adoration. It seems to protect him from me; from him and I being in unity.

It is in such moments that I trace my tulip across painted lips with a smirk to conceal my adoration. Yet he knows… surely he knows, and so why must I bother? He only watches for my next move, and perhaps offers a rare sentence to entrance me more than before.

I take a puff from the Marlboro, breathing in toxins as gray smog whirls around my face. My stare falls upon the row of streetlights that gild the sidewalks. My boots make contact with a puddle from an earlier rain as I walk. It is chilly. As if on autopilot, my hat is pulled downward to warm my ears.

He is a cocktail of wisdom of naivety, longing and loathing, fear and courage. He is full of contradictions and he sends me to the brink. Within seconds I am captivated by his presence; the next I ooze with rage, pulsating with the urge to main and harm. Kill. Kill him, kill anything, it is all the same to me. Then I am drawn back to the original emotion, and I imagine my lips upon his collarbone, polished nails sinking into his flesh, legs coiled around his body. My mind sparks fantasizes of moaning, satin sheets, red hot lies and deception and all the brutal things that come with this fucked up relationship, if it can even be called that.

He succeeds in confusing me due to all these contradictions. They are all wrong, yet they are suitable for his identity.

If only I could understand him… if only I could see through him as he can with me. It is only through him that I can come to know myself. Yet I know it is impossible to break through that vessel that harbors his soul, no matter my love or hatred for him. He will always remain a mystery, a shadow that appears only in the moonlight.

Thoughts clear as the wind follows me on this night in the city, and one gust extinguishes the cigarette brought to my mouth. It is as if this element cries for me to stop harming myself with these thoughts and with this nicotine. It is surely a delusion, yet somehow I do imagine that the wind is a living entity. For a fleeting moment, the image of a young girl crosses through me. I have never seen this girl, and yet it is as if she is somehow connected to me… or to him…

The wind coils around my legs and moves upward before settling on my hands. It is warm and gentle. Then I know madness has overcome me, for within that darkness comes a white orb with a voice. 

_You cannot understand him because you are so tormented, so drowned in your own bitterness at yourself, at your past, at never knowing how to live. You are drawn to him because you are also burning with contradictions._

Then like that the light and the voice fades. The wind vanishes, and I am left alone under those streetlights.

Maybe I will meet him again here someday. And perhaps in that time I will come to resolve these thoughts and emotions. Until then there will always exist love and hatred.


End file.
